


Should Know Me By Now

by Silverdart



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Seekers, Slash, post-dotm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverdart/pseuds/Silverdart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bay-verse Post DOTM.<br/>Amongst the pitiful wreckage that was once Chicago, a lone survivor is discovered. When Ratchet decides to save a seeker, he and the Autobots learn more about their faction's secrets and Starscream than they ever imagined possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

A/N: This is an idea I thought about when I remembered the death of Starscream in Chicago in DOTM and how in G1 and Beast Wars, he was nearly inmmortal and never really died because of his spark mutation. So what if the same were true for the movie trilogy? And how did he get that way? So many questions and if I get good reception from this I may continue the idea, although if I do , don't expect routine updates because I'm working on Just Changed. Written by just me, no Beta to mention. Title inspired by a lyric in the song 'By Now' by Marianas Trench.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. If I did, I would die from infinite happiness, most likely. ^-^

I don't own Ratchet's alt mode Hummer either, although I don't think I would happily have a heart attack if I had that. Now an F-22... yeah I don't own that either.

"Talking" 'Thinking' :Comm link:

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Prologue

Strident gunfire sounds in the southern end of the ravaged, broken city, yet among the littered carcases and strewn jagged debris that was once tall glass skyscrapers, each individual in their reach to the sky and each stretching to be the most elevated of all, there was an eerie silence that in its own right was just as deafening. In a place like this, where no movement is seen and no voices are heard, the solitude and stillness would make you wish to be on the other side. On the other side of the river, where the shots were fired, the energon splattered and whole lives torn to pieces in front of all who are unfortunate enough to witness such carnage. Families split apart forever and friends lost for eternity and a day due to nothing more that the indirect violence of the metallic creatures warring against each other. In places like this, where all hope is lost and the glorified light that would streak between concrete prison-like walls never shines again, you wish that the gods would be merciful and end you pitiful existence. Unfortunately, not all beings have such a privilege...

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The shots had stilled and drawn blood had long since ceased to flow. What was left of the once proud city was now a messy, desolate wasteland compared to it's former fleshy glory. Wreckage that was strewn heavily upon the cracked and fractured street was crushed and crumpled under the weight of the large lime metallic figure stepping above them, letting out the only noise apart from the distant cheering and celebration that was continuing its fourteen hour streak, to echo coldly between the singed walls of buildings and irreparable bodies of sparkless Decepticons. To Ratchet, a medic who's very life was sworn towards protecting and healing any and all, it was a grizzly sight that sent shivers down his back struts. Such a disregard for any life went against what the Autobots now stood for, but then again, not all is fair in love and war. And such an unfair, long and unjust war it had been, where love had no place or home for some. Love was cherished like trust with the Autobots and few in their army were ever truly alone. So in a way, as he gazed and scanned the empty shells of the once destructive 'Cons lying face down in the ash, he couldn't help but feel pity for them. He couldn't even begin to fathom what it would be like to be in a war full of physical and emotional turmoil and to be utterly rejected from comrades and commanders. What it's like to be alone. There was no place for emotion in the Decepticon populous, where trust was used as a mighty dagger to be stabbed between an ally's back plates and tortuous punishment for failure was a bitter reality. The fact that the opposing troops die so willingly for such a terrible, useless cause was what had called Ratchet to the scattered remains of the once active battlefield, in hopes of finding someone. Anyone.

Ratchet bent down to examine the shattered spark chamber of yet another offline Cybertronian before glancing to this one's darkened face plates. Judging from the lurking ghost signature, rounder face and larger, yet devoid optics, this mech had been nothing more than a youngling. An Autobot would have known not to kill it, for it was not a child's fault where or whom they came from. His optics trailed over the smooth circular puncture wounds in the dark optics as well as between seams in the young one's silver leg plating. Wounds like this were known to Ratchet, for he had pointed out these weak points and helped devise the maneuver to make use of them. A human weapon, or several in this case, had been the cause of this one's premature death. Ratchet's face plates tightened into a scowl which was just as quickly dropped. He sighed forlornly and slowly stood back on his feet. He shifted his head to look around, but his alert sensors told him what his optics could not. None had survived. Not Cybertronian. Not human.

'What's the point,' Ratchet asked himself. 'They're all dead anyway.' Head held low he walked on, glancing in false hope at every movement he saw only for it to be snatched by the wind along with drifting shredded newspapers. 'What am I doing out here anyway? My med bay is destroyed and six feet under.' He reasoned with himself, trying to push down guilt that shouldn't be his. ' Even if I DID find anyone, what would I do with the ugly slagger? I can't bring him to base, we don't even have a base thanks to Sentinel, that traitorous blinded fire truck! Never liked the bastard anyway, Prime or not.' The lime medic grunted and rubbed his faceplates with a thumb and index finger as he remembered the betrayal brought on by the ancient blood red transformer. To think that none of them had seen this coming had made it just the more disheartening to the remaining Autobots. Optimus had taken it harder than everyone and thoroughly blamed himself for the murder of Ironhide.

'Ironhide.' Ratchet felt optical fluid build behind his lenses in remembrance of his dear friend. 'You did not deserve to die like that.' Vorns ago, before the command team had left Cybertron in pursuit of Megatron and the Allspark, Ratchet remembered the conversation he'd had with the midnight trigger happy mech on the preparing launch pad.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
*650 vorns earlier*

"Hey Ratch?" The other sighed. "Yes Ironhide, what?" Ironhide shifted his weight from foot to foot, his energy field giving off a nervous and uncertain tremor. He hesitated. "What is it 'Hide? Can't you see I'm busy? Wheels up in a few breems, and my supplies STILL need to be loaded."The black mech's shoulders slumped as he let out an almighty sigh through his vents, sadness flowing over his dark ocean optics. Ratchet's expression softened and he turned fully to his old friend. " You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

"Can't help it. I just can't get her out of my processor. By Primus Ratchet, I was standing right there and I did absolutely nothin'! How could I have been so stupid?" Sensing the foreboding breakdown, Ratchet moved closer and laid his servo comfortingly on Ironhide's loose shoulder. Ironhide lifted his gaze and locked it with his, and Ratchet could see the self hatred and loathing lurking shallowly beneath.

"What happened to Chromia was NOT your fault 'Hide. She knew the risks she was taking when she took that mission as well as you did. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nobody could have seen that ambush coming." Ironhide's lips rose sadly for a moment. "Ya really think so?" Ratchet nodded positively. "I'm sure of it, she would have wanted to go down fighting, you knew her. She was just as bad as you are, what with all that 'go down fighting' slag." Ironhide smiled weakly and nodded back." That's how ah wanna' go down, kicking all the way. What about yo-"

"Ratchet, Ironhide! Wheels up in a few kliks! Hurry up down there!" The two glanced up to Jazz flapping his servo about from a nearby observing platform, trying desperately to catch their attention at a distance. The two nodded to the silver saboteur before Ironhide turned his helm to look intently at Ratchet. "Ah'll remember that. It's better to look to the future and help someone carry on rather than lingering on their actions in the past. Thanks fer trying to cheer me up Ratch."

"It's a pleasure of be of help." Ratchet gave a final reassuring pat to the weapon specialist's plating before walking off towards a pyramid of balanced metal crates, each holding nearly a ton in spare parts, surgical machinery and the odd spare finger.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jolting back to the present, Ratchet shuttered his optics rapidly, trying to regain a bearings of his ruined surroundings. He flinched at the racket of a particularity loud gunshot from across the river, reminding him of the celebration that he really ought to be returning to. He still had yet to fully scan and check over Samuel and Carly, never mind Lennox, Epps and the rest of the surviving American soldiers. He gazed once more to the young mech offline on the remains of a cracked and pebbled asphalt street. 'You didn't deserve to die like this.' Ratchet gazed to the darkening sky, smoke and kicked up dust beginning to blend in seamlessly with the end of the long day. 'Neither of you did.'

Ratchet exhaled his breath, not knowing he had held it in until his air pumps screamed to be released. Once again stepping through the wreckage, Ratchet suddenly froze, shell shocked with surprise. There it was again. A light trickle of energy brushing feebly against his own pleadingly, as if calling for help. The energy could not have possibly been from an Autobot, all but Que were knowingly accounted for, and Bumblebee stated that he had been offlined by a close range plasma cannon blast from a sadistic Barricade. 'Who the bloody pit would still be ALIVE out here!' Curious, Ratchet transformed into his emergency Hummer vehicle mode and slowly made his way towards the lingering Cybertronian signal, careful not to pop a tire on the littered glass biting angrily into his rubber.

The signature grew stronger as he approached the twisted remains of the poor fragger lying in discarded pieces on the ground like a bored sparkling's broken toy. Ratchet transformed back into his bipedal mode and grimaced at the energon flowing in pools from the shredded body. He caught glimpse of a long arm a few hundred yards away amongst other things, and when Ratchet saw what remained of the Decepticon's helm he nearly purged in disgust and pity. The 'Con's helm, if you could call it one, was absolutely blown to smithereens and Ratchet's optics widened when he realized just what he was standing in. He quickly shook the broken metal shards from in between his pede armour, shuddering internally at the prospect of stepping unknowingly essentially in another being's blasted brain. The poor slagger's helm was blown from the inside out, no doubt from one of Que's prototype timer bombs. The rest of his body was no better, what he could see of the mech's legs and chassis was dented, scratched and leaking energon all over the ground. One glance at what remained of the 'con's head sported puncture wounds similar, yet unlike those he found on the youngling earlier.

Ratchet kneeled down, resting with one arm perched on his knee as he searched for any telltale signs of bullet wounds. The once scarlet optics, now gray and void without the light of life weren't clearly pierced as they would be if they were shot out with a machine gun, but thoroughly shattered with what appeared to be small claw markings around what remained of the lens. They looked like something had latched onto the main socket wire of the left optic and refused to let go. 'Que's grapple gloves...' Sam said that he and Lennox had taken down a Decepticon, but Ratchet had been hard pressed to believe it, but now the evidence was sniggering and slapping him on the face. Moving down from the destroyed helm and exploded processor, Ratchet moved to the gunmetal grey mech's backplates when he caught sight of something he never thought he would see again. The tattooed wings and engines of a seeker. The mech's identity was finally brought to light. 'Starscream'

Ratchet pulled his hands away from the body, a new scowl plastered on his face. 'I should leave him here to rot.' He reasoned with himself. With that branch of thought he straightened and turned to walk away. He only managed a few steps before Starscream's weak energy field made another desperate effort to cling to his. Stopping, Ratchet looked over his shoulder at the face down flier. Another distressed usher. He sighed to himself uncertainly. 'Never leave a mech behind'. Ratchet's moral code was strongly based on this philosophy. He remembered Ironhide in that moment. ' It's better to look to the future and help someone carry on' He sighed conflictingly. ' Rather than lingering on their actions in the past.'

'Wise words, my old friend.' The green CMO turned back to Starscream and confidently flipped him over to inspect this spark chamber. Several serious cracks and fissures traced his shattered cockpit glass and Ratchet could see the weak sputtering spark flickering in its place snuggled in the chamber. The weak, sputtering, SILVER spark. Puzzled, Ratchet pushed aside his curiosity over the abnormal coloring to examine the damage done to the spark itself. Nothing major, but if Starscream's wounds were left untreated, he would be dead within the Earth hour. 'Primus, it's a miracle he's managed to live THIS long, stubborn fragger.'

Making his decision, Ratchet opened his comm link and contacted Optimus Prime. :Ratchet to Optimus, come in. It's urgent:

:Yes Ratchet, what have you found? Survivors I hope.: Ratchet glanced at the limp F-22 next to him.: I guess you could call him that. Call Mearing, tell her to have at least have my basic remaining equipment online for our return. And would it kill you to control Sideswipe's constant victory shot's. That damned hooligan will give me a spark attack, I swear on it.: Ratchet heard a chuckle echo through the link. : I will try, but I am not so sparkless as to deny him what little freedom he currently has. I think we both know you will deal with him when we return to base. Now, do you know the identity of our survivor?:

:I do, and I'm not sure you're going to like who it is, Prime.: He grunted. :I'm sure whoever it is can be negotiated with reasonably when they regain consciousness, I assume he's offline?: Ratchet snickered to himself with amusement. :If you knew who we were dealing with here, you would be eating your words like a starved turbo-jackal, Orion: Silence met with his comment. :Who exactly ARE we dealing with Ratchet?: Ratchet looked into the dead optics of the wilted flier lying at his feet before answering.

:Starscream, Prime. Starscream:

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I'm flying, no floating.

I'm floating freely on an endless cloud. I can feel the wind brush my entire being and I purr in happiness.

A drastic change from the utter racket I usually make on a daily basis. But oh... It feels so GOOD.

Freedom feels good. Amazing, even. An amazing feeling for an amazing change. To be free from the chains binding me to reality. To the cruel veracity that bound me to the Decepticons and MEGATRON. The sheer lack of restraint of my past has no effect on my weary spark here. The Autobots can't touch me here, in the sky. Can no longer haunt my waking dreams.

I feel a pull on my soul and instinctively flinch away from the probing entity. "Go away, I don't want you here. Leave me alone!"

The other is persistent and I can feel myself being unwillingly dragged from my peaceful domain and I can't help but remember what happened last time this happened.

"L-leave me ALONE! Please, just leave me be!" The other ignores my pleas, just like THEY did. Like they refused my desperate cry for mercy when the agony reached its peak. "P-please..." I whimper, utterly terrified. "N-not again! Please! I just want to be left alone!"

They never listened to me, they never cared about my pained screams. In fact, I would not be surprised if they revelled in it, in my suffering. In my PAIN.

I feel a powerful yank from the trespasser before feeling the gravitational anguish of being dragged from the sky and shoved to the ground. It's a common occurrence for me, both in the present and in the past. And as I'm pulled from my ideal reality, I can feel their filthy hands on me again. Probing at my very being. I can't shake off the panic long enough to realize this person felt different than them. But I don't care. I just can't stand it anymore.

Not the shocks, not the concoctions forced down my throat, not the burning radiation searing my spark. Changing it. Making me nothing more than a freakish monster to be caged and tamed.

I can't stand it. Not anymore.


	2. Ratchet's Decision

:Starscream you say? But that is-:

:Impossible? Yes I thought so myself, but Starscream always was a slippery scraplet now wasn't he?:

Ratchet gazed down, optics tracing the dark intricate tattoos that were still visible through layers of dirt, grime and long dried yet faintly glowing energon blood. What did they symbolize, what did they mean to the seeker? He had not had the black etchings marking his frame, displayed for all those both in the air and ground to see, before Megatron was first deactivated in Mission City nor when he fled the Earth's atmosphere to escape Autobot detection. Were the two events linked in some way?

Surely the seeker knew that markings such as these were a clear symbol of "I'm not a normal plane, you'd best shoot me just in case I'm dangerous."

Shaking his helm, Ratchet took a deep intake of dust laced air and focused his attention back to his leader's voice.

: What condition is he in, well enough to move?:

Most certainly not, but then again he was in no condition to still be living either. What the seeker must have been going through, having his mind literally blown and frame bitten by loose shrapnel, his existence hanging in the balance. It had to be the most agonizing form of pain and imprisonment possible.

What was worse were his wings, a seeker's pride and glory, blown from their hinges with their fragile plating cracked, dented and all but destroyed. Long sparking wires still swayed in the breeze, sending an uncomfortable shiver down the chartreuse medic's back.

There was no worse a fate for a flier than to be grounded, driven slowly but surely into insanity from their longing for the sky. For Starscream, the Decepticon Air Commander and the most skilled Cybertronian in the sky to lose his wings... Ratchet winced in sympathy.

Hopefully the 'Con wouldn't survive for long enough to commit suicide in his desperation for the air.

: I wouldn't say so Prime. He has limbs missing, optics shattered... pit he's missing the better part of his processor never mind all of the bodily damage to his torso and spark chamber! I don't think he could survive such a long distance, not without spark support and sure as hell without an energon transfusion. What's kept him online for this long is beyond me!:

As if confirming his words the mercury-like spark flickered feebly. Another weak pulse searching aimlessly for comfort and support brushed against the medic's energy field. Ratchet hesitated for a moment before gently sending his own calm aura to the distressed spark. It seemed to help and Starscream's spark brightened its dull glow before humming a light twittering tune into the soft winds blowing between the battered city buildings.

It was a beautiful sound, not what one would expect from the soul of a killer. It held a weary tone, as if older than what Starscream's age portrayed. Ratchet became lost in the song, in its light variations and the emotion such a simple sound could evoke. He almost missed it when it was suddenly cut off with the interruption of his leader's puzzled tone.

:Ratchet, is something wrong?:

Ratchet sighed, blocking out the spark's call and focused on finishing his report.

:No, nothing is wrong. But Optimus, are you really considering helping him? I mean... wouldn't it be better for us if he were to die out here? The Decepticons will have lost all three of their commanding officers. We won. :

:Ratchet-: Optimus' tone was no longer confused, but scolding as if he were reprimanding a child.

:We do not abandon those in need simply because they wear a different emblem on their chassis. It is what separates us from our foes. You know this and still you feel Starscream should not be given the opportunity of a second chance?:

Ratchet huffed, annoyed, and began pacing. He was careful to avoid stepping into any more scattered body parts littering the ground.

:I'm not saying that but look around Optimus! Ironhide is dead, the Decepticons are dead, Starscream killed Mirage and Megatron has been terminated! If kept alive Starscream will take over like last time. Don't you want this war over and done with!? Because I know I do!:

: Ratchet, everyone deserves a second chance, including mechs like Starscream and Megatron. I want you to try and keep Starscream online for as long as you can. A team is on their way with an air lift to transport your new patient to Cape Canaveral. They should be there soon.:

:Wait, what does Megatron have to do with any of this?:

:Ratchet... this is not the time, you have a patient to attend to.:

:Screw that! What do you mean Megatron deserves a second chance!? He put us through all this scrap and all you can say is that we should forgive him, all hugs and forgiveness, flying off into the sunset?:

Optimus grumbled deeply.

:I did not say he deserves forgiveness. All I say is that he deserved his second chance.:

Ratchet paused. Standing straight and optics narrowing he looked in the direction of the bridges. The last Prime may be doing the same in his direction.

He spoke clear and firmly through the connection.

:What do you mean "he deserved" ? You imply he has already been given his opportunity, but he is dead. You are confused Prime. I think losing your arm might have made you a bit unaware of your surroundings.:

:I am more aware than you think, old friend.:

:What's that supposed to mean!?:

:Your air lift will be there momentarily. Be sure Starscream doesn't have a 'spontaneous spark failure' until then.:

:Wait! Don't you dare-:

Nothing.

Optimus Prime, his leader, his comrade, and his friend- just hung up on him.

"That son of a..." The medic grumbled, swearing so colorfully under his breath and in so many languages that the Unmaker himself would be shocked into silence.

Shutting off the comm. Ratchet looked down at the wreck of a seeker, drawn to the swirling orb of plasma glowing in the shadows of the setting sun. He knelt, and moved his hands to settle on the jagged edges of his once smooth canopy.

With a sharp tug, the weak metal and glass came away like a leaf from a twig. He set it down and swept his hands through the Decepticon's chest cavity, sealing tubes and energon lines connecting to the spark chamber along the way.

There may have been no way for Ratchet to bring the seeker back online, but this would prevent him from losing any more energon than he already had.

As he worked, the silver spark crackled and curious tendrils flew lazily up to trail over the medic's hands in a sort of caress. Ratchet's fingers twitched and he scowled at Starscream's spark, picturing the seeker's smirking faceplates. The strokes continued, flowing between each finger and joint to pet gently on his lower forearms. The medic twitched, heat rising slightly as subtle sensors were lit, sending a full body tremor through him.

He pulled his hands away, mouth twisted in a frown which deepened when he saw the spark zap and shift happily. The seeker was toying with him, without being conscious to do so. What was wrong with this mech? That shouldn't have been possible. And yet it happened.

Ratchet growled and warned, "Stop that or my servos might just slip. There's an awful lot of sensitive circuitry in there you know. Wouldn't want anything bad to happen. "

As if pouting, the tendrils of energy retracted back into the spark, content with pulsing merrily away and nudging at Ratchet's energy field. Ratchet sighed, shook his head and continued working.

True to the Prime's word, the sound of blades chopping through air grew close. Looking up, Ratchet spotted several large black choppers weaving around broken building frames in his direction. Ratchet growled, throwing open his comm. link and contacting Optimus.

:You could have sent something a bit bigger, don't you think? We're not transporting another dead body just yet. :

:The other, larger aircraft are being used for evacuating innocent human lives from the city. It was you who thought Starscream would be better off treated like any other war criminal. This will be his transport.:

Ratchet growled aggressively over the link. :That was before he became my patient! Do you want him to die on the way? Being air lifted left to dangle in the open air will be torture to his spark, you know that!:

A few moments of silence went through the link before Optimus answered steadily.

:Ratchet, I know you are mourning Ironhide and I know you feel that Starscream has done things too terrible for redemption... but please, there is little we can do at the moment. We must help in any way we can to earn back the trust humans have lost in us, and saving a life when our species is at such critical numbers could make a difference in the future. If he dies so be it, but freedom is the right of all sentient beings, so we must work to give Starscream back his freedom. He is as much a victim of this war as you or I. Possibly even more so. :

Ratchet sighed, pressing a servo to the front of his helm, shading his optics.

: You just had to use that line didn't you? ... We will talk when we get back to base Optimus, about Starscream and that comment regarding Megatron.:

Hanging up rudely, Ratchet moved towards the lowering helicopters and began to gather any reusable parts of the seeker's frame he could find.

A heavy duty tarp was thrown from one of the choppers, landing in a heap on the ground. After spreading it wide, Ratchet dragging the deceivingly large body onto the fabric. He marveled on how light the seeker was, despite his large size.

Tying strong cables trough the loop holes of the tarp, the medic huffed. 'Will the wonders ever cease?' He thought sarcastically.

A whistle from above drew his gaze and he spotted a uniform clad human signal a thumbs up to him. Understanding the motion, Ratchet nodded and waved for the helicopter pilots to ascend. He watched, tense and ready to catch Starscream's body should it be too heavy for the multiple cables to handle. But they held strong and together the choppers slowly began their journey to a nearby air base. There was no way they could have enough fuel or power to haul the seeker across the country in one trip.

Giving one last look around at the desolate city block, Ratchet transformed and drove off towards the celebration. He was going to need highgrade by the end of the day, dead set on the goal of being overcharged to the point of unconsciousness by midnight.

Crimson optics followed his leave from the shadows, one glowing dully from a wound on the side of the mech's helm. The figure shifted back into the shadows to venture further into the destroyed sectors of the city, more shapes following in the dark.

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Optimus sighed loudly in agitation, his conversation with Ratchet ending on a sour note. As much as the Prime wanted to tell his old friend, he could not. Not yet.

Optimus watched coldly without emotion as the empty shell of his mentor was broken up and loaded onto trucks. It's destination, the Laurentian Abyss where it would be scattered around into the depths. There would be no resurrection of his teacher this time.

"Optimus?"

Cerulean optics turned down, spotting the small human that had saved his kind time and time again. Sam's wrist was bandaged but still burned from the puncture wounds of the scorpion watch the Decepticons had used to spy with. Where the little drone had run off to, he did not know.

"Hello Sam, you have seen a medic I see. Were you severely injured at all?"

Sam smiled up at the tall mech, reaching out with his good hand to pat at a wheel well in the Prime's ankle.

"Nah, I'm fine. If I wasn't I would be on a stretcher with Mom fawning all over me." He laughed at the memory of his parents nearly smothering him to death when they arrived in a military jeep to make sure their 'baby' was okay.

"I suppose so." Optimus hummed.

They both looked over the river, observing the smoke rising from fires that had yet to be extinguished.

Sam's face was slack before his eyebrows drew together and he asked questioningly.  
"Where's Ratchet? I thought he would have been back by now."

"There was... a delay he had to deal with. He should be here soon."

Sam nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Your blood stream contains an unusual amount of cortisol Samuel, is something troubling you?"

The human exhaled deeply, rubbing one hand against his dirty forehead.

"It's nothing. Just a headache is all. I'll be fine."

Optimus accepted the answer and replied. "Have Ratchet scan you over when he returns, just to be sure."

Sam nodded and yawned long and wide, the adrenaline crash making him tired. He slouched and tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

"Hey Optimus?"

"Yes Sam?"

"What happened to Megatron?"

Optimus stiffened for the slightest of moments, unnoticed by Sam who was busy stretching out his cramping arms.

"He has been dealt with." The Prime answered.

Sam grunted, throwing down his arms and swaying from foot to foot. He looked ready to just pass out where he stood.

"Well, I'd better get some sleep before I have a worried mother and medic poking and prodding me. See you later Optimus."

The human boy turned and slowly began to wander off to the small enclosure used as a temporary aid center. So many lives had been lost, covered in white sheets making them appear to be peacefully dreaming in rows. But the children, the mothers, the fathers, the brothers and the sisters... none would wake up.

"Goodbye Sam." Optimus said softly.

He too turned and made his way across the bridge. He had a phone call to make.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We believe that although the majority of the Decepticon forces as well as the commanding officers and well known targets were terminated, a number of them used the river to escape where they went upstream into Lake Erie. From there, energon detectors indicate they made their way past the Canadian border. It is possible they will take refuge in the Canadian Shield where the terrain would hide them."

"Excuse me-" Colonel Lennox was interrupted by one of his team members. "-but wouldn't they just continue north where we don't have any detectors set up? We would have to use satellites then, can't they sabotage those?"

"That would be the case, Corporal, if they wanted to become giant popsicles."

Chuckling sounded through the briefing room, causing the speaker to shrink back sheepishly.

"As we've seen, Cybertronians don't do well in extreme temperature conditions. The sub-zero temperature of the Arctic would be like a giant ice freezer to them."

"But isn't it like that for humans too?" Laughs broke out again before Will rose his hand and calmed the room down.

"Yes it is, but unlike them we have ways to overcome that using heat generators and weather resistant equipment. Their coolant would freeze and blow circuits within a few hours, and a fall in the water would put them immediately into emergency stasis."

"Since when did you become the expert in robot anatomy?" Epps called from the overhang rail that ran down a catwalk extending over their heads.

Will grinned up at him. "Unlike most people I do my homework."

Epps grunted and mumbled. "I do my homework, I just don't remember it all."

The Colonel barked out a laugh before continuing.

"We managed to track one group of about a dozen Decepticons moving through small villages and towns in near the border. They left later than most of the others and seem to be lying low. Our mission is to head over there and take them down. They haven't caused any trouble yet but we are not going to take any chances, alright?"

"Yes Sir!" Voices joined as one yell.

"Military satellites managed to take some pictures of our targets and the Autobots have identified several high ranking, flight capable 'Cons in the group. Commander Optimus Prime would prefer if we capture rather than destroy them. Use the non-lethal shells, is that clear?"

"Sir, yes Sir!"

Will looked to the touch screen desk at his fingertips, pressing a purple icon on the screen. Large monitors along the walls displayed pictures and video files of two cybertronians. But not just any cybertronians. Two seekers.

"Thundercracker and Skywarp. The remaining two of the commanding trine from the Decepticons."

A new recruit cleared his throat. "Trine sir?"

"A trine is a group of three flight capable transformers that are bonded together. They can communicate over long distances and feel each other's pain and emotions. Optimus has told me that these two are the trine mates of deceased Air Commander Starscream. He was their trine leader, the one that called the shots and led them."

Will looked down again, selecting one video file that showed strange robots fighting a viscous battle on a metallic world. The video showed two jet-like aircraft, screaming past the battlefield to drop bombs and shoot at anything that moved.

"Thundercracker is capable of sonic booms that would leave you deaf for several minutes, while Skywarp can teleport wherever he wants that isn't guarded by special shields, such as this base. And apparently they are very, very pissed off about what we did to their leader. I want everyone to approach these two with extreme caution and look over the files that will be handed to you as you leave this meeting. Does everyone understand our objective?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Alright, wheels up at 0300 tomorrow. Meeting is adjured. 'Till all are one!"

"'Till all are one!"

Soldiers began to file out of the room while Will gathered several papers strewn across the desk. Hearing heavy footsteps behind him, a large hand clapped down on his shoulder before he could turn to greet it.

Epps grinned. "Those speeches of yours are getting longer and longer each time I hear one. Are you sure you didn't knock your head one too many times in the field, Squirrel Man?"

Will groaned. "Just because I can jumps from a plane and glide around buildings does not make me flying squirrel, Epps. Besides, they need to know what they're getting into."

Epps shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat." He stared to wander but stopped and turned back to his ex-superior with a wide sly grin.

"By the way, Mearing's looking for you."

Lennox groaned. "Shit. Where is she?"

"Down by the launch pad I think. Just to warn you, she seemed pissed off about something. Kept ranting on about a breach in clearance or something like that."

Sighing, Will collected the rest of his briefing papers, thanked his friend and set out to deal with the fire breathing dragon that was their Director.

The hallways got larger and larger the closer he came to the exit, tall enough for Autobots to move around comfortable without stepping on anyone. One of the benefits of borrowing Cape Canaveral for a while.

Climbing into his jeep, he drove the few miles that separated the command base from the land and launching pad. As he got closer he immediately spotted several helicopters approaching, carrying a very large object between them.

Will immediately though the worst. Was one of the Autobots hurt or worse, dead? Judging by the angered expression on Mearing's face where a blank one would be if that were true, he discarded that thought from his mind.

He climbed out the jeep and walked over.

"Director Mearing."

"Colonel" she replied.

An awkward silence drifted between the two before she broke the ice.

"Colonel, did you know about this?"

Will adopted a confused look.

"Know about what Ma'am?"

Mearing scowled at the title. "I'm not a Ma'am, Colonel. I've told you that before."

"My apologies."

"What I mean is, did you know the Autobots are willingly bringing in the biggest security threat on the planet?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Don't struggle. You'll only make this worse on yourself."

The cold voice snapped at me, murky shapes moving around the table bearing my bound body. Another mech came closer and placed a hand with blunt fingertips on the other's shoulder.

"Go check the serum, it should be ready by now." The mech with the cold voice grunted and shuffled away. I took the chance to look around, pulling on my binds. The room was bright and sterile, monitors beeping and strange machines reporting their findings to several bots mingling around.

I pant heavily and feel the bite of panic welling up inside. My wings, they were just lying there underneath my arms. I can't feel them and I keen shrilly when they refuse to move.

"Hush little one, don't hurt yourself. This won't take long."

Bright blue optics are the only thing can make out on the mech's face, the rest of it obscured by my blurry vision. Ruby armor covered the frame in blocky shapes. I relax slightly, the calming tone and gentle stroking of my helm dulling the faint pain in my wrist ad ankle joints.

"Let him squirm, Percy. He won't be able to move much longer anyway." I let out a faint whimper.

The cruel mech growled, and I flinch back prepared to be struck. "Shut up you little defect."

His palm swings toward my face and I shutter my optics tight. No pain came. Cracking one optic open, the mech with the red armor held my attacker's arm firmly.

"Calm down Neon. We need him intact and healthy for this to work. Don't make all this terrible work for nothing."

The cruel mech yanked his arm back. "What we do isn't terrible. We are ensuring the survival of those who are worthy. The little glitch should be honored we picked him out of thousands to undergo the tests."

Thankful? Why should I be thankful? What was good about what these mechs were doing to me?

"Stole him you mean. Neon, you know the sparkling won't survive the procedure. The serum is meant for full grown mechs, not children."

"Well none of those kids were seekers, now were they? A breed all their own, seekers. Aggressive, wild war machines that kill groudpounders like you and me."

"That doesn't matter, he just a-"

"No! He is not a sparkling. He's an animal that just hasn't realized it yet. They all are and I'm going to treat them that way."

Red armor dropped his head, giving up. Why did he give up!? Coolant begins to build in my optics, pouring over into streams running down my cheeks. I'm not a monster. I'm not!

Neon smirked and grabbed a syringe filled with strange liquid from a tray beside my table. He flicked it in my view, torturing me.

We locked optics and he smiled wide.

"Be sure to scream extra loud this time, Star. It will make me enjoy this all the more."

The needle punctured deep into my neck cables, and I did as I was told.

I screamed.


End file.
